


The Intimacy of Sleep

by RuntotheForest



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Confessions, Drinking & Talking, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuntotheForest/pseuds/RuntotheForest
Summary: Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller have a lot unspoken emotion between them.  Various circumstances put them in a position to find out if they should speak or act upon these feelings.  (First of 3 chapters)
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 31
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic! I have been home, quarantining, and binged Broadchurch for the first time. I fell in love with these characters, and couldn't stop thinking of them. I was also dissatisfied with the ending, so I sought out fanfic to help me realize that I'm not the only one who feels this way. They should be together. So now I can create that world, however I want to! Be kind and gentle, I'm a newbie!

Alec Hardy looked up from his desk as she popped her head into his doorway.

"Night, Sir," Ellie said with a bright smile. The smile, he thought, was more infectious today than it had been in the last few weeks. After they'd solved the Winterman case, after she had suggested a trip to the pub, he’d refused. And after she asked him why he came back to Broadchurch, he had bolted. Since then, just over two weeks ago, she kept a bit more distance between them. They didn't have an urgent case to investigate, so they could go for hours without speaking, Hardy hiding in his office, Ellie busying herself with paperwork. When they did interact, it was polite and detached, with little of the banter that had defined their friendship, or relationship, or whatever it was, for several years now. Hardy knew he was responsible for this odd shift in their dynamic, but didn't believe he had the necessary social skills required to sort it out. But today, seeing that smile at his doorway, his heart skipped a bit, and he found himself popping out of his chair, a file still in his hand.

"Miller! Fancy a pint at the pub?"

She stopped short and looked at him in stunned silence. For a moment, she said nothing, and Hardy squirmed a bit, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"It's okay, Miller. Daisy's gone to visit her mum this weekend, so I didn't - never mind, it's not - "

"Yes, I'd like that, I think." And she smiled again. That same, brilliant smile. Hardy’s eyes widened, and he dropped the file on his desk. The corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.

“Let me grab my coat.”

The air was brisk as they walked uphill to the pub, chatting about kids and plans for the weekend. Some of the playful banter crept back into their conversation. And sometimes there was no conversation, which was never an issue for either of them. They had always been content with the silence of each other’s company. Walking together felt good to Ellie, even though she had to work to keep up with his long strides. The last few weeks had worn on her a bit. She didn’t know what there was between them, but it didn’t feel right when it whatever it was wasn’t there. Waves of relief spread through her chest, and yet still there was a sense that she couldn’t read Hardy tonight. He seemed moderately cheerful – and hell, he had invited her to the pub (will wonders never cease, she thought) – but still seemed a bit far away. She was used to his brooding moodiness, though, so she chalked it up to Hardy being Hardy.

Once they had pints in front of them though, Hardy was quiet and spent a lot of time looking down into the ale he wasn’t drinking. She was determined to figure him out tonight, and decided that drink might make her bolder, so she drank rather faster than she was used to - then promptly ordered another, for bravery. “Is there a reason you asked me here if you planned to spend all your time staring at your drink?”

He looked up then, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, Miller. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?” She absently gulped her ale.

“This.” He gestured to nothing in particular. 

“What do you mean, ‘this’?” She gulped some more, imitating his gesture.

“'This' is what I’m not good at.” She noticed his obvious discomfort, but it didn't stop her.

“If you keep talking in circles, you knob, I’m leaving.” She finished her second ale, and raised a hand to order another. Hardy drew a deep sigh. He looked intently at her, much the way he did when he was about to tell her of some dreadful, painful memory. His eyes were warm, but he looked like he might bolt at any moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but at the same time, her next pint was delivered, and she began to sip it as she waited for him to speak.

“I – I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Really, for what?”

“I may have been rude to you a few weeks ago when you asked me to the pub. I think maybe you’ve been angry with me. I don’t want that. It doesn’t feel right.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. She marveled that Alec bloody Hardy would apologize for being rude. She didn’t say anything, and absentmindedly drank her ale.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation - but I can’t really give you one.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

He sighed. “Maybe a bit of both.” He looked unsure, and ran his fingers through his hair. He had barely had any of his ale, if any, Ellie noticed. “Look," he continued, "I will tell you that I said no to the pub before because I think it’s important to keep work and personal life separate. I didn’t before, with Tess, and it didn’t work out so well.”

Ellie laughed. “But it’s not like we’re married.”

“I know, Miller. But sometimes I feel like we may be too – “ He stopped - cruelly, thought Ellie. She was leaning in, as close as she could get to him from the other side of the table, breathing a little faster now.

“Too what?” she asked, cooly, even though her own breathing sped a bit as well. Hardy fidgeted, running his hand through his hair again, refusing to meet her eyes.

“God, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.” His words were quiet, spoken to his untouched ale.

“Too WHAT?!” It was a demand now. Ellie didn’t know if the drinks – how many had there been? – were making her bolder than she’d felt in a long time.

“Too close,” he said softly.

She laughed then. Rather high-pitched and shrill, she thought.

“How close is that?” she demanded. Bloody hell. Those drinks were making her brave. He didn’t say anything, and Ellie felt an ember in the pit of her stomach. Anger. It surprised her.

“Seriously. How close is 'too close'?? You know I bloody watched you almost die, you wanker!”

Hardy looked up, and met her eyes. His eyes were so warm and expressive, she thought. He couldn’t hide his feelings, because his eyes always betrayed him. She softened. Then she grabbed his pint. “If you’re not going to drink this, I am.” And she did, rather quickly.

Hardy stared at her, frowning. “Miller.”

“Don’t Miller me.” In a flash, the anger was back. “You want to talk about “close”? You were the one who told me my husband was a murderer. You watched me fall apart and then try to put my ridiculous bloody life back together. How close is “too close” for you, Sir?” She saw him wince slightly, and look off into the distance, somewhere over her head.

“Miller.” He tried again. “We are – close. I wonder sometimes if that’s - not right.”

Her eyebrows went up, anger briefly quelled.

“What does that mean?”

Hardy sighed again, more deeply than he intended. He shook his head in resignation. 

“I care for you,” he said simply. And he looked at her seriously, not a hint of irony or teasing. Ellie’s head started to spin suddenly, and she wasn’t sure if it was the ale or Hardy’s revelation. She felt tingly all over, and she didn’t know why. Hardy didn’t say a word. His hands were folded on the table, and he stared down at them.

“You _care_ for me.” It was a statement, not a question. Hardy looked up, ever-so-slightly nodding.

“Yes.”

Ellie was not going to let him off the hook. “Well, I should bloody well hope you care for me! We can’t have spent all this time together if we didn’t _care_ for each other! We couldn’t have been this undefeated bloody team if we didn’t _care_ for each other! You _care_ for me?? You _care_ for your Great Aunt Gertrude too, I’m sure.” She saw and heard her words, slightly slurry now, pinch at him a bit. He shifted and hunched his shoulders. 

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what IS it like, since we're being so bloody earnest?"

“For god’s sake, Miller – “ His eyes begged her to stop, defeated, embarrassed. He looked forlorn, dejected, and wouldn't meet her eyes. 

And then she knew, despite the rapidly developing fog in her brain. She gasped, audibly.

“You fancy me.” She actually didn't mean to say it out loud, but out it came. 

He slumped back into his chair, blush creeping into his cheeks, eyes downcast, searching for the right words to respond. He wondered if this conversation would have been different if there wasn’t so much ale involved. And then he sat bolt upright.

“Miller, let’s go. I think you need some fresh air.” He threw down some money, grabbed her arm, and led her outside. She glared at him, then started to giggle.

“DI Hardy, Sir. Do you fancy me, _Sir_?” she teased. Embarrassed, he started walking, silently. She didn’t follow. He turned to see her teetering a bit, staring after him. He walked back to her, gently taking her hand.

“Come on, Miller. We’ll walk some. I’ll make you a cuppa at my house. Can’t send you home to your kids like this.”

She had mentioned that her dad was staying with the boys tonight, and she had told him she was going out, so at least Hardy knew that was taken care of. He had never seen Ellie like this, and wasn’t quite sure how to manage it, especially in light of their pub conversation. He worried that he had mucked it all up. _Bloody idiot_ , he thought. _Trust you to let everything go to shit._ But Ellie was happy and teasing, and as they walked, she held onto his hand and looped her other arm around his. He was forced to slow his walk, which he did patiently and silently, all the while letting her chatter and touch his face, his hair, and run her fingers up and down his arm. She fished his glasses out of his pocket, putting them on her, putting them on him, until he gently took them from her and put them back in his pocket, still silent. He wasn’t sure if he was amused or distressed.

By the time they made it to his house, she was obviously slowing down a bit. He sat her down on the couch, and went to make a strong cuppa, which he knew she secretly liked, but would never admit. When he came back with the tea, her eyes were closed, but opened again when he set the tea down noisily in front of her.

“Drink this,” he ordered, somewhat sternly. Her sleepy gaze didn’t leave him as he sat down beside her. He turned to look at her, ready to enforce his order, and realized she was staring at him drowsily, but intently. For a moment, their eyes locked together in an altogether unfamiliar way. He saw her begin to lean into him, and he felt his breath catch and his heart beat somewhat erratically, despite the Pacemaker (or was he imagining that?). She tilted her head up to his, softly gazing at him, picking up her hand and pressing it to his chest. Suddenly, Hardy’s eyes widened and he abruptly stood.

“No,” he said.

Ellie looked as though he had slapped her. She flopped backward into the couch and glared at him.

“I don’t understand you,” she hissed.

Hardy paced a few times, running his hands through his hair, before coming to a standing stop in front of her. He was quiet a moment longer. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, then decided he had to go ahead with it.

“It can’t be this way,” he said simply, quietly.

Ellie looked stricken. There was silence. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and stared down at the couch cushions. For a moment, she didn’t move a muscle, and didn’t make a sound – but then, much to Hardy’s horror, he saw her body begin to shake, and she began to cry. His heart lurched, and he sat beside her again. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she jerked herself sideways, away from his touch.

“You don’t get to touch me! Every time you do, it’s because I’m miserable.”

Hardy realized this was true, and he also ruefully noted that this time, he was the cause of her misery.

“I’m sorry. Listen to me.” His voice seemed unnaturally low and soothing.

“No – you made me think you fancied me, and then I threw myself at you like a giddy schoolgirl.” Her face was wet with tears. Shame had seemingly snapped her out of her drunken haze, and now her head throbbed.

“Please. Look at me. _Ellie_.” The use of her first name and the gentleness of his voice lifted her eyes up to meet his.

“I do fancy you.” It was so soft, the way he said this, almost a whisper. She involuntarily took an inward breath and shivered a bit.

“But - but you said it can’t be this way. I don’t understand how it can be both ways. You’re the most bloody confusing man I’ve ever known!”

He sighed, a weary sigh. He lay a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move this time.

“I do fancy you, Ellie Miller. But I don’t know if you feel the same way, and if you don’t – I can’t jeopardize our friendship or our work relationship. I said it can’t be this way, because I want your mind to be clear. I don’t want you to do or say anything you’ll regret later. I couldn’t let you throw yourself at me, then hate me for it tomorrow because it’s not what you want.”

Ellie couldn’t speak. A stray tear made its way down her cheek, and Hardy wiped it off. She didn’t flinch at his touch.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s a lot.” And then, almost a question - “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to give you a hug.”

More silence. Hardy worried that she would never say another word to him. But an eternity later, she whispered, “I’ll allow it.”

Hardy leaned toward her, enveloping her with his arms. She melted into his embrace, leaning her head against his chest, listening to his heart. The steady rhythm comforted and warmed her, and she snuggled in closer and closed her eyes. He smelled clean, she thought, and slightly like the salt air. His arms around her and his scent made her feel strangely safe, and at some point, she let herself drift off. Hardy realized she was asleep a few minutes later, as he was still holding her. He didn’t want to wake her, so he let her rest on his chest for a while. Eventually, he gently moved out from under her, then gingerly laid her head on a cushion. She stirred slightly, but did not wake. He lifted her feet onto the couch, and carefully laid an afghan on top of her, tucking it underneath her. Her hair had fallen over her face, and he gently brushed it back behind her ear, studying her.

He didn't know how to define Ellie Miller - who had been the face of happiness and enthusiasm, whose husband had betrayed her and everyone else in the cruelest way possible, who had lost so much, but still clung so tightly to what she had. He admired her determination, her loyalty, her intelligence. And even now that she was more wary, and Joe Miller had darkened her optimism, she still had the brightest smile and most shining eyes he had ever seen, and he knew he needed them in his life. He even secretly adored her insults because he knew they were his alone. But now he was worried – that maybe he had said too much, maybe things could never be the same between them, or even that she wouldn’t remember anything that had happened. He realized that this was the first time he had watched her sleep – the hotel room in Sandbrook didn’t count, he thought, as he was too busy trying not to make her uncomfortable, and he had made such an effort not to look at her. He didn’t know if tonight would change anything. He didn’t know if it all had been a mistake.

He stood up slowly, then fetched a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water from the kitchen, setting them on the table in front of Ellie. He found himself suddenly exhausted, and sat down in a chair across the room from her, rubbing his eyes. At some point he dozed off, and then woke later (how much later? Minutes? Hours?) to find an empty couch.

Ellie was gone , the afghan folded neatly on the couch, the water glass safely returned to the kitchen.

He sighed deeply,  knowing that he  had upset her, and hated himself just a little more than he  had earlier in the day. He wondered how long ago she had left. He grabbed his phone and shot off a quick text.

** Did you make it home? **

He waited, somewhat nervously, seemingly forever.

** Yes. Thanks for the aspirin. ** **See you Monday.**

No answers, no hints. _Damn._ It was going to be a long weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Ellie's POV. Poor Hardy. We all abuse him so.

Chapter 2

It had been a long few weeks after the evening at the pub, and Ellie kept trying to push it out of her mind. It seemed to her that Hardy had been steering pretty clear of her whenever he could, spending most of his time in his office, since things were still pretty slow at the station. Ellie was content to keep her distance as well, secretly mortified that she might have said something that may have disturbed their – well, indescribable friendship. A few times, she sensed he was looking her way through his office window, but when she looked up to meet his gaze, he immediately looked away. Maybe she was imagining it. 

_What the hell did I say to him?_ She thought she remembered the conversation, but didn’t trust her memory. Did she _flirt_ with Hardy? Did she hear him say that he fancied her? That couldn’t possibly be real, could it? It would have been way out of character for him. She must have dreamed it in her stupid drunken haze. But why on earth would she dream that Hardy fancied her? This was a maddening source of frustration – if it was all real, it was bloody confusing, and if it wasn’t, and she had dreamed it all – well, it was still bloody confusing! She didn’t understand why it seemed so vivid, or why any of it would have happened in the first place. To add to her woes, she felt terribly embarrassed that she should let herself get that sauced in front of Hardy, and her shame kept her from talking to him – instead, she pretended as though nothing had happened. She was a bit angry with herself for being a coward, and knew it was better to just ask him, but she was scared off by his distance. _Just let it lie. It’ll sort itself out later._

But today there was little time to think of such things, as crime seemed to be picking up in Broadchurch. The brief lull from a few weeks earlier was a distant memory as criminal activity had noticeably increased in the last week or so - summer was finally here. Today, it was a robbery. When the call came in, Ellie grabbed her suit jacket, and went to get Hardy. His office door was shut and the blinds were closed. _Probably just grumpy_ , she thought. _Trying to avoid people. Trying to avoid me. Typical._

She knocked lightly. 

“Sir?” 

No answer. She knocked louder. 

“Sir??” 

Still nothing. She put her ear up to the door to see if he she could hear him on the phone, but there was only silence. She tried once more. 

“Katie – seen Hardy today?” 

“Yeah, just through the window, though. I know he’s in there. He was already in when I got here this morning. Looked like shit, though. I mean, more than usual. I mean, well, you know.”

“Hmmm.” She knew, but the answer still irritated her.

She knocked again, and this time there was an answer. “ _What_?” A typical Hardy response, but it lacked its normal power, yet held onto the annoyance at being disturbed. Ellie frowned and tentatively opened the door.”

“Sir…”

Hardy was sitting at his desk, but his shoulders were hunched, and his face was scrunched up into a grimace. He looked disheveled and oddly sweaty, and his eyes weren’t quite focused.

“You look awful.”

“Thanks a lot, Miller.” He said it almost breathlessly. He looked as though he was in pain, and Ellie was concerned.

“Sir, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. What do you need?” His voice sounded hoarse, and falsely authoritative. He sat up straight. Ellie thought he was making a show of pulling himself together, somehow.

“We’ve got a robbery, Sir. Electronics store. I can take someone else, if you need to – “

“Nonsense, Miller. Let’s go.”

Frowning, she watched him push himself to a standing position by holding onto his desk. His grimace was back, and he wobbled a bit on his way to grab his coat from the back of the couch. Ellie was alarmed.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You seriously look like shit.”

“Miller.”

“It’s not your heart again, is it?”

“No. Stop pestering me. You drive.”

The electronics store was ironically named Hardee’s, and it was just outside of Broadchurch. They drove in silence, and Ellie cast worried glances at Hardy – there was something wrong, clearly. He said it wasn’t his heart, so was he sick? She reached over and laid the back of her hand on his forehead. He was burning hot. Hardy waved at her hand weakly, a half-hearted attempt to slap it away.

“Miller, what the hell are you doing?”

“Sir, you are not well. You’ve obviously got a fever, and you look like bloody _death_.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not bloody _fine_. What about this is fine? What the hell is wrong with you? You shouldn’t even BE here, and now I have to babysit you through this call before I can take you home, which is where you should be, and where you should have stayed this morning!” She waited for a protest, and none came. _He must be really sick, if he’s not going to argue_ , she thought. She was angry, but growing more concerned by the minute.

They pulled up to Hardee’s, and Ellie watched Hardy work to pull himself out of the car. It was excruciating, so she rushed over and offered him her hand to pull him up. He frowned at her, but reluctantly held out his hand. As she grabbed his hand, she felt its unnatural heat. _Damn it, I'm not doing this!_ She let go.

“Stay here,” she ordered. I’ll handle it.”

“Come on, now,” he protested meekly. 

Ellie glared at him, silencing him wordlessly, and strode off to deal with the crime scene. Broken windows and missing video game consoles. Probably teenagers, she thought. She exchanged pleasantries with the store owner and began taking his account, writing down various details in her notebook, but stealing occasional glances back over her shoulder to the car. She was finishing up her interview when the owner suddenly looked past her, a frown appearing.

“Is he alright?” He nodded in the direction of her car. Ellie spun quickly and gasped. Hardy had managed to lift himself out of the car, and was walking toward her, if you could call it that. He was holding his side, wincing, and looked dreadful.

He was quite obviously not alright. Ellie watched him begin to stagger toward her, and without thinking she ran to him. She hadn’t quite made it when he groaned, grabbed desperately for his side, and dropped to his knees. As he started to slump to the ground, she grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. _Why is he so goddamn hot_? 

“Hardy! Alec!” She kneeled and cradled his head. His eyes were unfocused and glassy, and she had a terrifying sense of déjà vu – remembering the last time he had collapsed in front of her. He had almost died that night three years ago, and now _what was happening??_ She felt panic rise up in her throat, but knew she couldn’t let it overtake her. Hardy would never let her forget it if she lost her head right now. Instead, she quickly took action.

She solicited the owner’s help in loading Hardy into the car, promising quickly that she would send other officers around to finish up with him. As she drove, she rang CID to make sure they sent out another team to Hardee’s, and to let them know that there was a medical emergency involving DI Hardy, and asked if they would let A&E know she was on her way. She drove somewhat recklessly, casting worried glances at Hardy. He was half-conscious and moaning, and Ellie’s heart was in her throat.

“Hang on, Alec. We’re almost there.” 

After what seemed like hours, but was really only a few minutes, they were there.

_______

Ellie had spent several hours in the waiting room. Once they had arrived at A & E, she had urgently explained the situation and his symptoms to the doctors who came out to meet her, and Hardy was whisked away. She had called CID again to update them on Hardy’s status, which was as yet unknown. She had called Daisy, who was on holiday in Paris with her mum now that term was over. When talking with Hardy’s daughter, Ellie tried not to give an indication of worry. Instead, she focused on keeping her voice low and controlled as she promised the girl she would take good care of her dad, explaining that there was no need for her to cut her holiday short. _Especially if it means Tess will be here,_ thought Ellie, wryly.

A few hours later, she was seated by Hardy’s side in yet another hospital room, watching him sleep.

She shook her head absently, and watched the repetition of his chest rising and falling. His hair flopped across his forehead, and she unconsciously reached up to brush it back. She noticed that his face was completely relaxed and almost boyish. _Must be the medically induced sleep_ , she thought, otherwise his jaw would be clenched tight, as usual. She lay her hand on top of his, and was comforted when it wasn’t quite as blazing hot as it had been a few hours ago. 

She wasn’t sure whether to be angry or grateful. Hardy’s stubbornness could have actually saved his life this time. His insistence on coming to work meant that he hadn’t been home alone and helpless when his appendix had burst. The doctors had told her the high fever was due to the infection spreading throughout his abdomen. She shuddered, mentally dismissing an image of him dying on the floor at home. Her mind turned to their recently fractured relationship. _No, it’s a friendship._ _Bloody hell - whatever it is!_ she thought. 

From the day she met Alec Hardy, she had been both irritated and fascinated by him. He wasn’t like anyone she had ever known – he was grumpy, sometimes rude, and confused by relatively normal social conventions. He rarely smiled. But he was also a top-notch detective, so dedicated to finding the truth, that it was often to the point of physical harm to himself. He was also the only one who never doubted her when Joe was found out to be Danny’s murderer and a paedophile. He was the closest thing she’d had to a friend during the most difficult time in her life. He had tried to console her as she broke down. They had grown closer through the Sandbrook case when they had spent so much time in each other’s company. Their lives spent together became familiar and comfortable – which was why Ellie felt almost betrayed when he left to go back to Sandbrook after the conclusion of that case. And now he that he was back in Broadchurch, throughout the Winterman case, they had fallen into familiar patterns. DC Harford had even remarked that they seemed kind of like an “old married couple”, which elicited a giggle from Ellie and an eyeroll from Hardy. But for about a month now, things had been strained between them, and Ellie now realized with a small amount of horror that it might have been her doing. She had always been the one trying to get Hardy to open up and stop being so moody and monosyllabic, and now _she_ had stopped communicating with _him_ , even as he tried to reach out to her. The night at the pub had confused her, left her unsure where she stood, so she had just checked out. _Bloody hell,_ she chastised herself. _Who’s the knob now?_

She didn’t know how long it had been when Hardy’s eyes fluttered and opened halfway, squinting into the impersonal fluorescent lights, making her heart flutter as well. She reached over and put her hand on top of his. It took a few moments before his eyes focused enough to see her. She made some effort to make her face look impassive.

“Ellie,” he whispered, dreamily. And then again. “Ellie.” Then his eyes closed, and he was asleep again.

Ellie’s eyebrows raised. Hearing Hardy say her first name was always strange, and usually a harbinger of something awful. But this time it was innocent and lovely. Hardy was out of it, and he’d said her name. She didn’t know why that meant so much right now, but it felt warm and comforting.

She must have dozed off in the chair after that, and awakened a short time later. Hardy was stirring, and her hand was still on top of his. He came out of sleep slowly, blinking lazily as though his eyelids were heavy. Again, recognition wasn’t immediate, but when it did come, she was rewarded with a slight smile, and a gentle reiteration of her first name. 

“Ellie.”

“This is getting old, Sir,” she teased.

He frowned slowly, not comprehending. “Wha’?”

“Me sitting in hospital, waiting to make sure you haven’t died.”

“No grapes this time.” His speech was quiet and slurred.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to pop off to the Tesco while you were delirious in my car.”

“Not delirious. Don’ be dramatic.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t see yourself, Sir.”

“Thank god.” There was a short silence, and then Alec quietly asked, “Why am I here?”

Ellie sighed and leaned closer to him.

“It’s not your heart. Your appendix burst. Your entire lower abdomen was infected, and you had a bloody fever of 40. They’ve removed the appendix, and some of the infection. They’re giving you antibiotics intravenously, and are working to reduce your fever, which they have done to some extent. And I’m sure I’ll have to tell you again later, because you won’t remember any of this conversation.”

Much to Ellie’s horror, as she relayed this clinical information, tears started to form in her eyes, and spilled down her cheek, unchecked. Hardy reached for her face weakly, but couldn’t quite make it there. His arm dropped limply.

“Don’t cry, Ellie,” he pleaded. “Why’re you crying?”

“I’ll tell you some other time when I won’t feel so badly for yelling at you. But I wish you’d just bloody take care of yourself. Some of us would miss you if you were gone.”

“You would?”

“No, you knob,” she teased. That’s why I’m sitting here with you. Because I can’t stand being in your presence. I suppose I should just leave.” 

She thought she probably wasn’t being fair teasing him like this when he was too loopy to comprehend her meaning. As if to prove her point, Hardy tried to sit up - but he didn’t make it very far before he collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted.

“Ellie. Stay with me,” he whispered, before his eyes closed and he fell back asleep.

Her tears started to fall again, and she grabbed his hand and held it to her damp cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, you bloody fool.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hardy was in the hospital for three days before they discharged him with strict instructions to rest and do absolutely nothing that required exertion. Ellie drove him back to his house, set him up on the couch, and made him some tea.

“I’m off to CID,” she announced cheerily. “Don’t do _anything_ , do you hear me?”

“I know.”

“Seriously.” She glared at him.

“I _know_!” Hardy protested. “I was there, I heard what they said to me. I’m not a child.”

Ellie chuckled. “Well, all right. Take your pain medication when you need it.”

“I won’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Right. When I come back, I fully expect to find you suffering stoically, because you’re too bloody stubborn to admit you need any help whatsoever.”

“For god’s sake, I’m fine!”

Ellie smiled to herself, stifling a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “I quite liked you better loopy. You were way more fun. Charming, even.”

Hardy went silent. Ellie ruffled his hair, playfully.

“I’m off. Ring if you need me. Please eat. There’s fruit and protein shakes in the fridge, and I’ll be back after work to bring you some dinner.”

“You don’t need to – “

“Stop being such a wanker. I’ll see you later.” And she was gone.

Throughout the rest of the day, Hardy read a bit, dozed a bit, watched the telly a bit, but he grew increasingly uncomfortable as the day wore on. The pain from the surgery and infection was a dull throb, increasing in intensity, radiating outward, not yet ready to let him rest. Despite this, he left the bottle of strong pain medication untouched.

Ellie unlocked the door at half past six, armed with takeout noodles and a smile that disappeared as soon as she saw Hardy’s face, twisted with discomfort.

“Bloody hell! What is wrong with you, Hardy?” she demanded.

Hardy tried to keep his features impassive, but it was a feeble attempt, he knew it.

“Why do you do this to yourself? Please, tell me. I can’t for the life of me imagine why you would allow yourself to writhe in agony when you’ve been bloody ordered to take the damn pain pills!”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Don’t need ‘em.” He didn’t meet her eye.

Ellie glared at him, silent for a moment.

“Right.” She drew a deep inward breath and frowned. “Alec Hardy, I swear, if you don’t give me a straight answer, I’m walking out that door, calling Daisy, making her finish her holiday more than a week early, and then you’ll have bloody Tess here taking care of you for the next week!”

Hardy closed his eyes. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and the dull pain was unrelenting. He swallowed. It took way too much effort.

“Sorry.”

Her face softened. She came to him then, perching on the edge of the couch. She faced him, folding her hands in her lap.

“Just talk to me,” she said, gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He sighed, and was silent for a few more moments. He swallowed again.

“I need to have a clear head, and I don’t when I take that stuff.” he finally said. Ellie’s eyebrows shot up and she cocked her head to the side.

“What, you need to have a clear head?! Whatever for? You have no responsibilities right now. Your _job_ right now is to bloody _heal_! You can’t heal if you don’t sleep. You won’t sleep if you are in constant pain. You are causing yourself more stress by doing this to yourself, all because you need a _clear head_?? Why?”

Hardy shifted uncomfortably. The dizziness was maddening. “I don’t like being all fuzzy. It makes me feel like I’m not – myself.”

“What, you miss being grouchy and insufferable?” Ellie muttered. Wearily, he shot her a look.

“No. Honestly, I don’t know the half of what I’ve said to you for the past few days. I don’t like not knowing. I don’t like not being in control of what I’m saying. I don’t want to say anything – regrettable. Or, uh, inappropriate.”

Ellie couldn’t hide her smile.

“Too late,” she announced. This sounded a bit more smug than she had intended.

Hardy held his breath. His head was swimming, and the nausea threatened to overtake him. “Oh god, what did I say?” was his breathless question.

Ellie took a long breath. “You told me you loved me four times.”

Hardy saw only stars before he vomited.

\-------

Four days later, Hardy went back to work. He and Ellie had entered into an uneasy truce, which resulted in him taking the medication during the day, when Ellie was at work, and at night, after she had brought him dinner. He carefully timed it out so he would not be “under the influence” when he saw her, but was able to rest and recover when she was not there. His mortification upon learning about his drug-fueled confessions sent him into a brooding silence that Ellie couldn’t seem to tease him out of. Still, after a few days of rest, feeling somewhat better, he received clearance to return to CID - provided he spent the day sitting at his desk, and not heading out into the field. Hardy was grateful he would have something to do, even if it was paperwork.

This time, when Ellie showed up in the morning with breakfast, they left together for CID. Hardy was quiet during the drive in, and Ellie didn’t push him. She sighed silently. She and Hardy always seemed as though they took one step forward, then two steps back in their undefined relationship. She knew at some point they’d have to figure it out, because she knew she couldn’t continue on this way at her current level of frustration. She was unable to decide if she was frustrated with Hardy or herself, but something had to give – she knew that. _Later_ , she thought.

At CID, Hardy received an immeasurable number of smiling “welcome back, Sir!” greetings. Never one to enjoy attention, he murmured thanks and retreated to his office as soon as it was acceptable to do so – something he wouldn’t have cared about a few years back, but conscientiously made the effort now. He spent the morning finishing paperwork from spring cases that felt far in the distant past. He spent the afternoon trying to read recent case files that he knew nothing about and had no part in, because he’d been gone for more than a week. It had been busy in Broadchurch – busier than he expected. He tried to read and catch up, but found his concentration waning as the day wore on.

By 4:00, he was tired, annoyed that sitting at his desk was so bloody exhausting. He took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, then buried his head in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Ellie walked in with a cup of tea that she set down on his desk near his elbow. He had sent her out on a few calls, so had barely seen her for most of the day. “You look like you need it.”

“I’m okay, thanks. And - for the tea, too.”

“Exciting day, Sir?” Her eyebrow went up as she teased.

“Electrifying.” His face was impassive, but his answer made her giggle. She didn’t know why, and, apparently, from the expression on his face, neither did he. Still, he seemed to relax a bit, and sipped his tea.

“Miller, I need your help.” It was almost a question. She looked at him quizzically. “I can’t seem to bloody concentrate on these files from the last week. Will you talk through them with me?”

She considered this for a moment. “I’m working on this assault case right now, but let’s take the files with us when we leave today. We can have a working dinner tonight. I’ll let Lucy know, and she’ll feed the kids.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. See you at 6.” She left with a smile, leaving him to ponder his tea. Maybe this would help them find their way back to something resembling normal, whatever that was. The last few months were a blur of confusion and awkwardness and - _mind-altering substances_ , he thought ruefully. And now he was tired and sore and couldn’t focus, and perhaps a working dinner was just what he needed.

At 6:00, she popped her head in his office, and off they went. They stopped by Sargenti’s and picked up some take-out Italian, before ending up back at Hardy’s house, case files and bags of food in hand. They sat at the table, and Ellie handed him his box of vegetable lasagna. He opened it and eyed it suspiciously. Ellie scoffed.

“When are you going to make your peace with food? As long as I’ve known you, you act as though someone is trying to poison you at every meal. Most people see food as a means to sustain life, and many actually enjoy it.”

“It is a means to sustain life. That’s why I eat it.”

“Barely. That’s why you’re so thin.”

“Shut up, Miller, and eat your dinner.”

She smiled into her food. As they ate, Ellie updated Hardy on several of the most pressing cases they had received in the last week. Despite his weariness, he felt somewhat refreshed now that he was back in the loop of activity. He had his glasses on, and was flipping through papers in the last of the cases they had discussed, when Ellie looked over at him.

“I need to ask you a question,” she said quietly. He felt himself freeze, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was something in her tone. Gentle, yet uncertain. He looked up at her quizzically, taking his glasses off and setting them on top of the file.

“Aye.”

“What happened on the night we went to the pub?”

He leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “You had way too much to drink.” She waited for more, but he didn’t say anything.

“And?” she prodded.

“You, uh, flirted with me.” _God, I knew it!_ she thought.

“Anything else I should know?”

He hesitated, the sighed deeply. “You - you tried to kiss me.”

Her face flushed, and she looked down.

“I didn’t know if you remembered that part,” he said, softly.

“No,” she said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” And then she thought for a moment. “What did you do? When I tried to – you know?”

He shook his head slightly. “I didn’t think it was something you’d do normally, and I didn’t want you to be sorry. I told you I didn’t want you to regret anything.”

“Would you have regretted it?” she asked him, softly. Her eyes bore into his, and he couldn’t think. He stood up, wincing a bit, and moved to the couch, looking straight ahead, not at her. _A little farther away_ , he thought, _for safety_.

“Don’t ask me that,” he said, and his voice sounded thick. She got up from the table, frustrated, and dropped onto the couch next to him, looking intently at him.

“Why don’t you ever answer any of my questions, Alec Hardy?”

He couldn’t look at her. Instead, he stared forward, and took a long, slow breath in. She thought he would never speak, but he did – slowly and quietly.

“Because I’m afraid of the answers, and I don’t want you to be afraid too.”

Ellie felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not afraid. Why are you?”

Hardy looked down, and there was another long silence as he tried to piece his words together carefully. He shook his head slightly, so weary now.

“Alec. Trust me.” And she reached for him, laying her hand on his forearm. Her touch felt electric. His eyes pulled upward to meet hers. He sighed.

“I left Broadchurch for all the reasons I told you, and came back for all the reasons I told you. But there was more to it than that. I – _felt_ something for you. Something strong. Something that was completely inappropriate, given our circumstances. And I couldn’t complicate your life – all that madness you’d been through - for something that was clearly my problem to work out.” He caught his breath, and started again. “When we were working on Sandbrook, it seemed like you were becoming alarmingly like me – cynical and cold – and I didn’t want you to be like that. That's not you. I wanted to protect you from the disaster that is my life. I felt like I wasn’t – good for you. So I left.”

He wiped his face with his hand. “While I was gone, I did need to make sure it was over with Tess, and that was clear almost instantly. She – well, she was convinced that I was in love with you. She wouldn’t let it go. She thought we were having an affair, like everyone else did, I suppose. I needed to be away from you. I needed to try and find some distance. You were too important to me, and that frightened me.”

He stopped. His head dropped again. Ellie forced herself to take steady breaths.

“Why did you come back, Alec?”

He smiled a bit, somewhat sadly. “I believe I gave you that answer while under the influence of pain medication, lass.”

Ellie felt a jolt in her heart. She wondered if this was how Hardy felt when his pacemaker fired.

“Why didn’t you say anything after you came back?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t my place, to come back and disrupt your life. And I was fine just being your partner again, seeing you every day, and working with you.” He looked at her earnestly. “You, Ellie Miller, are the person I trust the most. And you’re the person I most want to trust me.”

His eyes were soft and expressive – liquid pools of brown. She was one of the only people who knew how expressive his eyes were, she thought. She felt as though she might drown in them now.

“Alec.” Her eyes filled. “Alec, look at me.” She moved her hand from his arm, and touched the side of his face. He turned to face her. She kept her fingers on his face. Tears spilled out of her eyes, making his heart wrench.  
“I do trust you,” she said. “More than anything. More than anyone.” His eyes widened. “You don’t have to be afraid. Please, Alec. Please… kiss me.”

Realization dawned on him slowly, as though he was in a fog. He felt like he was moving in slow motion as he took her face in his hands and leaned slowly into her. His lips touched hers, softly, gently, ever so lightly. They blinked at each other, stunned. He leaned again, and this time she pulled him to her, and their lips were eager and hungry, exploring and devouring.

After a few minutes, they both leaned back away from each other, hardly comprehending the situation, breathing hard. Hardy was suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. He reached and tucked a curl behind Ellie’s ear.

“Promise me that you won’t regret this,” he breathlessly pleaded with her, wiping warm tears from her cheeks with his fingertips.

“I won’t. I Promise… Alec.”

“Hmm?” His voice was drowsy.

“Nothing, just – thank you for coming back.” She leaned into him then, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She lay her head on his shoulder, and snuggled into his good side. He lay down on the couch, gently pulling her down with him. Their limbs tangled together. The warmth was intoxicating. Hardy’s eyes grew heavy.

“Ellie,” he murmured. He stroked her hair. He was fading. She rubbed his chest gently.

“Shhh. Just rest. It’s ok.”

He was asleep in an instant, and his arms relaxed as he slipped out of consciousness. Ellie lay with him, feeling his chest rise and fall, hearing his rhythmic breathing, and she marveled at the evening’s turn of events. She knew everything had changed, and there was no going back. Despite all the uncertainty about their odd relationship for so many years, Ellie knew this was right. They were already partners. They were already friends. She already knew he would do anything for her, and now as she lay on his chest, listening to him sleep, she felt fiercely protective of him, and knew that she would do the same. Their trust in each other bound them together. She never expected this, but now that it was staring her in the face, she couldn’t imagine not having it.  
As Ellie lay there with Alec sleeping underneath her, she felt something she hadn’t truly felt in years – happiness. Smiling, she closed her eyes, and then she too slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first-ever fanfic. It was a labor of love. I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to writing more!


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